by
Rhyo
*~*~*
Crossover
with Angel, sort of. Actually it's a crossover with Wolfram and Hart, the evil
law firm, before Angel took it over. This is about the fifth re-write of this
story (posted to my LJ a couple of months back), and it happened to match up
with this challenge. Eventually there will be more, but my claim is that this
is a stand-alone, and I am sticking to that claim.
*~*~*
Lindsey
watched carefully, dividing his attention between Holland and the bank of video
monitors on the wall. He knew that something important was about to happen
although he couldn't see what could possibly be of such interest in the man
waiting in the lobby. But Holland's eyes were hungry as he watched the monitor
that showed the restless young man.
"You said this was a simple will. Why didn't you kick this meeting
downstairs to Estates? Does the bequest involve an item of great value or
power?"
"The
bequests are of simple monetary value to anyone but the intended
beneficiary." Holland pushed a file folder across the table, keeping his
hold on a small velvet sack. To one side of the table was a companion piece, a
large, soft-sided package, wrapped in the same velvet and bound with coarse
cords.
Lindsey picked the folder up and read through. "I don’t understand. This
estate probated almost thirty years ago - why are we disbursing assets
now?"
"The will required that the beneficiary not be notified until he is within
six months of majority."
"But the legal age of majority is 21."
"Yes," Holland said with a faint smile, "that is the age of
majority -- for humans."
Lindsey
looked back at the main monitor. The man waiting for them seemed human.
Mid-to-late twenties, long curly brown hair pulled back into a ponytail,
well-worn but clean jeans, no-brand dark blue polo shirt and a light-weight
denim jacket. Slung over one shoulder was a battered leather backpack, and he
betrayed his nerves by repetitively clenching and releasing the shoulder strap
of the backpack.
"He doesn't look particularly different."
The corners of Holland's mouth tugged upward. "Appearances, Lindsey,
aren't what matter here. He may not look like much to us," he gestured at
the monitors, "but look: all of the Wardens know he's here." The
video monitors showed the cells of the mages that Wolfram and Hart used to cast
spells and protections. All of the Wardens were standing, their hooded heads
tilted up as though they could see to the lobby from their sub-basement cells.
It was impressive and creepy and Lindsey tried not to shiver.
Holland flipped the intercom toggle. "Tessa, please show Dr. Sandburg
in." He turned off the bank of monitors, except for the main lobby
monitor, and stood at the foot of the conference table. Lindsey moved to stand
at his left hand.
The
doors opened and Tessa ushered the client in. "Thank you, Tessa," he
said reaching out to shake the client's hand and gently pulling him out of her
grasp. "That will be all for now." Holland smiled and gestured him
into a seat, which he sank gratefully down into. "It's a pleasure to meet
you, Dr. Sandburg. I'm Holland Manners and this is my associate, Lindsey
McDonald."
"Uhhh, yes," he said, half-rising to shake each offered hand in turn.
"Look, I'm sorry, but -- your representative in Cascade said something
about a benefactor and a bequest, but, really, I'm sure some mistake has been
made, and you want some other Sandburg."
Holland sat down across from him and Lindsey remained standing. "Your name
is Blair Jacob Sandburg and your mother is Naomi Ruth Sandburg. You are a
consultant with the Cascade police department and an associate professor of
anthropology at Rainier University. You have done field work in Africa, Asia
and Central and South America, studying tribal warriors and watchmen, although
your dissertation was on a completely different topic." Lindsey watched as
Sandburg shifted uncomfortably and filed that fact about him away for future
reference.
"You've got a pretty impressive file on me; everything but my
birthday," he said with a nervous smile.
"Oh, we know your birthdate but we have something better. We know when you
were conceived."
Sandburg chuckled. "Oh, that is a nice trick, considering that my
mother isn't even sure."
"Ah, but your father was. You were conceived on the Day of Soul Crossing
in the year 5,000 by the Tirza calendar. Or, by our calendar, October 31, 1968
- and nine months later would have been June or July of 1969, matching up with
your actual birth on the eve of the summer solstice, June 21, 1969."
"My
father? The Tirza calendar?" Sandburg shook his head, clearly
trying to decide which line of inquiry he wanted to follow first. "The
Tirza were a mythical race of demon mages from the Euphrates Valley. There are
stories about them in Babylonian legends - an evil race of demons with glowing
eyes who terrorized the population until Sargon of Agade raised the armies of
Sumer, Akkad and Ur under the banners of the goddess Tiamat and wiped them off
the face of the earth." Sandburg raised an eyebrow as if daring Holland to
say that he was wrong. "I do teach Intro to Ancient Myth and Legend, you
know."
"That myth is half of your heritage, Mr. Sandburg. Your father was the
late Baladan Mardach of the First Tirza House and your line stretches back to
the beginnings of the Tirza race."
"Oh, come on. You can't believe this." He jumped out of the chair and
paced the room, hands gesticulating. "I don't believe this. My
father was probably one of my mother's fellow students at UC Berkeley. Naomi
came from a very conservative Jewish family on the east coast and she was
enjoying her freedom her first time away from home, partied a little too much,
and then had to drop out of school when she found out she was pregnant."
"Mr. Sandburg," Holland said gently, "we here at Wolfram Hart
are very sure of our facts. And the fact is that Baladan Mardach was your
father."
"Look, this has been very interesting, but I think I've heard enough and
we've wasted enough of our time here. I knew coming here was a bad idea,
even before Jim said so. And I wouldn't even be here if my department chair at
Rainier hadn't asked me to come to LA to pick up an artifact for him from the
Museum of Natural History."
"Yes. Quite a fortunate coincidence, was it not?"
Sandburg turned at Holland's bland tone and studied him. "Are you saying
it wasn't a coincidence?"
"Don’t you believe in kismet? You're a man of the world, you've seen the
role that fate and chance play in every culture; accept who and what you are
and become one of the shapers of fate rather than suffer the whim of
fate."
"Not that you don't have a fascinating imagination, man," He picked
up the backpack he had dropped while pacing, "but I've heard enough here.
And you," he said, stopping in front of Lindsey, "should really be
thinking about talking to the senior partners about your boss's mental
health."
Lindsey
managed to stop the shudder the inadvertently chosen phrase caused.
"Holland is never wrong -- and, Dr. Sandburg, the estate is extensive:
real estate, financial instruments and," he leaned in for emphasis,
"some very rare and priceless ancient artifacts."
Sandburg's face had shown only distaste until Lindsey mentioned the artifacts.
"Artifacts? And I suppose these artifacts are supposed to show that the
Tirza actually existed? That demons existed?"
"We aren't anthropologists or researchers, Dr. Sandburg; we're just
lawyers, executing the estate according to the deceased's wishes." Lindsey
watched with amusement as Holland reeled his fish in, one tiny tug on the line
at a time. "It's not our place to determine the authenticity or the value
of the artifacts, we leave that to people like you, who are far more
qualified."
Holland opened the small velvet pouch and removed a silver bracelet. It was a
wide cuff bracelet with inlaid gold designs of repeating symbols. There were
five small faceted gems inlaid in the bracelet, all of them sparkling in the
light. The inner surface of the bracelet was deeply engraved with small
symbols, partly worn, rubbed off against the original wearer's skin.
Sandburg's eyes widened as he looked at the bracelet, and he reached out to
touch it, hesitating just before his hand closed around it. "This looks
like a very good copy of an ancient design - impressive workmanship, very
authentic details. Unfortunately, I am not an expert on languages, so I can't
translate the symbols. Did your client travel? It's possible he purchased this
in Iraq or Iran -- maybe even Syria. It's probably a copy of a museum
piece." He turned it in his hands, over and over. "But it's
beautiful."
"And it belong to you, Dr. Sandburg," Holland whispered silkily.
Sandburg stared at the designs on the bracelet. "It's beautiful, and it
feels.. it feels..." He shook his head. "I can't -- I shouldn't take
it..."
Despite
his words, he slipped the bracelet on his wrist. Lindsey kept his face
impassive as he watched the cuff reshape itself, flattening and smoothing, to a
seamless, closed band. There was a momentary flash of light and the inlaid
designs flared with color and movement, the light reflecting back as Dr.
Sandburg's eyes glowed the same molten gold as the symbols. Then the light
vanished and the cuff became simple etched metal again. It took Sandburg's eyes
longer to return back to their earlier blue.
Holland smiled with deep satisfaction, and used a pair of scissors to cut the
cords that bound the larger package. He unwrapped the velvet cover and picked
up the top object, a heavy, leather-bound book.
Sandburg sat as if dazed, staring at the bracelet. He blinked and shook his
head, looking up as Holland spoke loudly. "You must look at this
book," Holland pushed it toward him. "Our librarian glanced at it and
said she couldn't even begin to guess how old it is."
Reverently, Sandburg reached for the book. Lindsey couldn't tell if it was
respect for all old books or this specific book. He opened the pages
cautiously, being as gentle with the bindings and paper as he could. "Ah,
damn," he finally whispered. "I don't even recognize the language
this is written in. But this book is old -- very old -- an original and
priceless document. Your librarian probably already told you this, but this
book should be kept in a carefully climate-controlled vault and probably,"
he said ruefully, closing the book as gently as he could, "no one should
be allowed to touch it without using special equipment."
"Very true, Miss Winters did mention that. I am sure Rainier University
has the facilities to properly protect valuable documents."
"Yes, we have an excellent document preservation and restoration lab. But
I won't be taking the book back with me. As I have said several times, there is
some kind of mistake--"
Holland gesture toward the other item in the package. "There is a third
object, perhaps you'd care to examine it?"
Lindsey watched the brief stand-off between Sandburg's conscience and his curiosity
as it played across his expressive face. Finally, with a small sigh, he reached
for the package, lifting the item inside and spreading it out on the table.
"It's a ceremonial cape." He smoothed it out, displaying the back and
sides of the cape. "It's amazing," he said, looking at the ornately
drawn designs running across the surface of the cape: animals, plants,
constellations, a panopoly of the seasons and the hunts. "It has such an
interesting texture, so well-tanned. I've seen something like this
before..." He ran his fingers over the supple tanned cloth, enjoying the
feel. Suddenly he sucked in a breath and jumped backward, flinging the cape
away. "Shit! That's human skin. That entire cape is human skin! Do
you have any idea how illegal it is to possess that cape, not to even mention
how revolting it is?"
Holland
smiled. "It's a sacred and venerated religious artifact, Dr. Sandburg,
given full protection by Constitutional statutes, and we can produce
documentation which would verify the religious exclusion from the United
States' Prohibited and Proscribed lists."
"I don't care if you can produce documentation saying it's been blessed by
the Pope, the entire Heavenly Host and the Rabbinical Council in Jerusalem!
That isn't the point! People died to make that cape - in fact, people were
probably ritually tortured and then skinned alive."
"Your 30th birthday is approaching, Dr. Sandburg. That age holds a special
place in Tirza lore. According to your father's notes, at age 30 you will Become
and you will need the tools of your legacy."
"I will Become? Become what?" He held up a hand and shook his
head. "No, no, don't answer that. What I am going to become is out
of here. This has nothing to do with me."
"I see, then," Holland sighed deeply. "As per the terms of the
will, we shall keep the artifacts in storage, here at our offices, for a period
of a year. They can be turned over to you any time you request them. Now, let
me have Tessa show you out--"
"No!" Sandburg moved to the door hastily. "I'll let myself out,
thanks." He opened the door and paused, half-way out the door. "Look,
it's not that I don't appreciate your work here, it's just that I really think
that you want some other guy. And just because someone raved about the Tirza doesn't
mean it's true. I mean, look at the cape: he was obviously a little off his
rocker. I don't know where he got the artifacts," he looked longingly back
at the table, "or that old book, but I can't give that story much
credence. I'm sorry."
Holland nodded, the picture of a sorrowful and earnest servant. "Just
remember, Dr. Sandburg, those artifacts belong to you."
"Thanks," Sandburg smiled," but, uh, no thanks." He nodded
at Lindsey and stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him.
Lindsey waited a moment after the door closed. "Was that how that was
supposed to go? He refuses the legacy and walks out?"
"Oh," Holland said, smiling that half smile that let Lindsey know he
was missing part of the picture, "he took what he was supposed to take,
and he'll be back. He has no choice. He's half demon, and he will discover that
soon enough. And then he'll need the rest of the legacy, which we will
faithfully hold for him, and when he returns it will be time to make a
deal."
"A
deal with a demon mage? Is that really wise?"
"Dr. Sandburg still thinks he is holding a few secrets up his sleeve.
We'll be making a deal with an inexperienced, barely-in-control half-demon mage
and his Sentinel -- a deal which could be very beneficial for the firm."
Lindsey watched the monitor as a clearly rattled Dr. Sandburg strode through
the lobby, a hint of a silver bracelet inlaid with gold and precious stones
glinting from beneath the cuff of his denim jacket. "Yes, I see."
Fin
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